


The Winchesters After LARP

by soullessbrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Discovery, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessbrothers/pseuds/soullessbrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the LARP, Charlie wants to thank the brothers. When she goes to their tent, she finds something she isn’t expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winchesters After LARP

Charlie frowns at the mirror. She pulls at her gloves and licks her forefingers to wipe at some of the mud across her jaw. It’s too ingrained for anything less than a sponge and a hot shower. She’s been through worse. Her cheeks flush as soon as she imagines Gilda flittering into existence behind her, arms snaking around her waist and kissing at her shoulder.

“Oh my God, Charlie, get a grip.”

The chastising expression falls away to giggles and Charlie stands straighter. The dirt would have to wait, but her bag wouldn’t. When she packs, she idly rolls up her maps and some of her (hidden) home comforts. She loves roleplaying as much as the next girl, but there was no way she could have sweaty guys coming in and out of her tent without some sprays. At least she brought some that really did smell like flowers and not the bullshit perfume that would call her out. A queen’s supposed to stay fresh when her subjects are in the grime.

She thinks of Monty Python’s King Arthur. Nice.

Charlie has given her greatest knights their own tent to change, so she imagines that they would be there now. The day had ended better than she ever could have thought. Dean didn’t look impressed when he first appeared, but the armour, wig and facepaint for their final battle was amazing. Sam looked good too, he made the effort, and Charlie needs to thank them again. Hit them up one more time for the road. She didn’t think they’d be seeing each other again too soon.

Outside of her tent, she watches some of the servants start to pack away the smaller parts of the camp. Kids would go nuts over the stocks, crates and working firepits, so there had to be some kind of cleanup between meets. Charlie nods at one of the men doing heavy lifting, a fifty-year-old with a paunch slowly disappearing every time she saw him, and continues on her way.

The tent is only six down from where Charlie’s is situated, and she stops at the closed front. Most likely, the Winchesters are still getting dressed, and no matter how much she likes them, she doesn’t want a face full of them naked.

“Dude, it’s not coming off.”

She recognises Sam’s sigh. “Be patient, Dean.”

“Jesus Christ. Hey!”

“Hold still!”

“You did that on purpose!”

“Real mature.”

“I’ll give you goddamned ‘mature’. I need my freaking skin, Sammy.”

Charlie holds a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. She hears a shove of hand against clinking metal and takes a step closer to the front flap. So much for all the macho hunting stuff they were trained to do. After the afternoon’s fight, she’s convinced that they’re still only about twelve. And that’s only if she adds their ages together.

“Quit it!”

“Dean, I swear to God—”

“I will end you, Sammy.”

“It’s just stuck.”

“Unless you wanna get something stuck in you, you better be fast.”

“You’re the one that chose all the extra knots.”

“And you’re the little bitch that can’t undo them.”

“You undo them.”

“I can’t freaking reach!”

Charlie dares to hold onto the free material of the tent’s opening and pull it half an inch to the side. She knows all of the protocol. It’s supposed to be a loud clearing of the throat, then a self-announcement in-game. Outside, a hello would make sense. She can’t bear to do it. It’s a comfort, seeing something human and normal between brothers that spent every hour killing monsters. If they could stay normal with everything that they saw, she could stay normal, too.

Inside, Sam is at Dean’s back and struggles over a harsh knot. Dean growls. “You wanna strangle me there, Sammy? Great job.”

“Dude, maybe I should just leave you like this.”

“You fucking dare.”

Sam grins. “Real cursing now? I guess it’s serious.”

“I will kick your ass so hard—”

The outer layer falls with a clatter and Sam’s hand drops to cup Dean’s groin. Charlie’s jaw drops just as quickly.

“You think you can stop being a jerk for two seconds?”

“Bitch,” Dean scowls, but it’s breathy. Needy.

Sam’s hand squeezes and Dean leans back into his brother’s chest. His brother. That’s when Charlie notices that Sam is already clean, already down to his underlayers. Dean groans. It doesn’t stop Sam, who is suddenly quiet, shifting his fingers to work at the rest of the cosplay. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. Hard, tough Dean Winchester being tugged around. When Sam raises the shirt, Dean lifts his arms for Sam to take it off. As soon as the layer is gone, bare skin on show, Sam wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and leans to kiss the side of his neck.

Whoa.

“Sure. _I’m_ the bitch.”

“Don’t you dare, Sammy. Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?”

“I’ll rip the goddamn foam off that sword and _oh_ —”

Sam’s fingers splay out, downwards, and find their way to Dean’s groin underneath the material. In those outfits, Charlie can’t mistake Dean’s erection, or the bumps of knuckle that surround it. She can’t tell if Sam is hard too, him hidden behind Dean, but the way that Dean grinds his ass back into him, the chuckle that escapes from Sam’s mouth, she can guess.

“Here, Dean? Really?”

Dean is gruff. “You’re the one touching my dick. Damnit, Sammy, I told you—”

He clenches his jaw to suppress most of the moan. Sam pushes the material down to free Dean’s cock to the open air and tugs. The thumb that runs over his slit is a thumb that knows its place, that knows how to force the air from its target’s lungs. It works.

The other hand is at Dean’s side to guide his bumping back and forth, but Sam ruts forward, too. He twists himself to bite the back of Dean’s neck and the smile that spread across his mouth obviously savours the high-pitched noise that yelps across the tent. Charlie is transfixed. Horrified and transfixed. That doesn’t stop the Winchesters.

“God, you’re so strung out.” Sam shoves Dean a few steps ahead and they both stumble until Dean grabs onto the tent’s wooden table with both hands. “Fifty bucks says I make you come in under five minutes.”

“Fuck you,” Dean rasps.

Sam laughs again and the hand on Dean’s hip slides back. Sam shifts too, rocking himself almost into Dean’s side, and Charlie doesn’t quite understand at first. She does when Dean’s cock is squeezed again, the shine of precome slick between shaft and palm, as the other hand slips inside the bottom half of Dean’s outfit. It’s spread out, from this angle, Charlie can see the flattened bump of fingers. Then it changes. The bump thickens and Dean moans.

Sam. Has his finger. In Dean’s. Ass.

“Sam—!”

Dean isn’t even trying to censor himself. He pushes his ass back into the hand, and Charlie watches the car crash of material stretching in and out as Sam thrusts his finger in and out. She can only wince at the burn it must force on Dean, but Dean, well, he’s moaning louder. Charlie’s almost glad he is, because it blocks out most of the filthy, wet sounds of Sam’s hand pumping around Dean’s cock.

“Ready to come yet?”

“God, Sammy, I’m gonna kill you, I’m really gonna—”

Charlie drops the tent flap and finally clears her throat. It’s too awkward, it’s too personal and she really needs to bolt. “Um, guys?”

The sounds stop. Shit.

“Hey, I just came over to say, you know, thanks. And…”

“Don’t mention it.” How Dean’s voice is so measured, Charlie doesn’t know. Sam’s finger is probably still inside him, his cock ready to pulse. It’s like they have practice, hiding this. They don’t know she’s been listening. How could they know? A normal person would have screamed. “We’ll be out in a minute. Goddamn layers.”

“I’ll just be… in my tent.”

“Sure.”

It’s still silent. They’re waiting for Charlie to go.

“O-kay then.” Charlie walks as quickly as she can back to her tent. She can hear their moans ring in her ears, but she’s too far away. It’s just her imagination.

Fifteen minutes pass before Sam and Dean walk into her tent. Charlie forces a smile, but it’s nervous. They’re her friends, they’ve saved her and she’s helped them, but this, she doesn’t know what to feel. Whatever they’ve got going on, it’s none of her business. She doesn’t know what pushed them to start whatever this is. She can’t judge them, she won’t.

“So, Charlie.” Sam looks pleased with himself. That’s when she spots a fistful of dollar bills poking out of his pocket. “That was fun.”


End file.
